


All Fall Down

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Needles [7]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Of Needles, Wars or Hands of Time, Stability, a Search For, All Friends and Kingdom Come, A Moment and Rage, Fear, Serenity.</p><p>From this prompt in the kinkmeme:</p><p>AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive</p><p>Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.</p><p>Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.</p><p>Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.</p><p>And then Charles pulls Erik from the water</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Fall Down

All Fall Down

Charles wakes to Erik’s hands on his wrists, his lips on Charles’ own. Charles keeps his eyes closed but presses up into the kiss, open mouthed, arching up. The sheets slip free and the cold morning air is sharp against his bare skin.

“Erik-“ the words buzz between their parted lips.

“Shh,” Erik’s breath tastes of warmth and sleep. “Let me.”

Pinned to the bed, there isn’t much of an option. Charles lets himself relax, only opening his eyes a moment to take in the light in the room – still dark, plenty of time – before closing them again. He drops his head back to the pillow, baring his throat to Erik’s teeth. Some gestures of submission are universal.

Erik licks along the edge of Charles’ collar, along the tendons and ridges of his windpipe. He bites gently, here and there. Sucks until blood comes. More marks to add to the ring of bites and bruises already there. Charles is going to have a collar of bruises to match Erik’s iron one.

Yes. Mine. Erik’s mind has the stiff stillness of when he’s trying hard not to think about something. Just- mine. Let me have you, just once more.

Charles opens his eyes to Erik’s face, only inches away. “I’m not going anywhere.” He flexes his hands and traces fingertips over the back of Erik’s hands where they grip his.

Erik kisses his forehead, a soft brush. The tight grip on his emotions crack and Charles can feel the fear held just underneath. His hands tighten on Charles’ wrists.

“Shh.” Another kiss, this time on his lips. “Not that. Just, this, now, please.”

Charles arches up again, kissing back, spreading his legs in invitation. Then this, please. I love you. I’m yours. Take me.

He can feel Erik’s smile against his lips, a moment’s chill when the covers are pulled off him, quickly replaced with heat when Erik lowers himself on top of him. Erik lets go of his wrists and Charles flexes them, reaching up and running his nails lightly down Erik’s bare back.

“Legs up.” Erik’s eyes are bright; the bond is hard hot lust. He shifts over to pick up the tub of lubricant and Charles grins, hooking his arms around his legs and pulling them up.

“Good boy.” Erik purrs against his ear, coating his fingers before running one down over Charles lower lip. It tastes slick and sweet, feels cool and slippery when Erik reaches over between his legs and presses his fingers in.

Charles groans, throws his head back. With his eyes closed he can look through Erik’s and see himself, doubled over on his back, flushed scarlet and panting and wanton. Eyes bright and gleaming.

“You are beautiful.” Erik whispers, moving his fingers deeper until Charles is arching up blindly as fireworks go off behind his eyes. “Stay still.” Erik rests his spare hand on Charles’ thigh, holding him down, even as he moves his fingers again.

Two, three fingers, and then Erik pulls out of him, Charles smiles, head thrown back among the pillows. Erik’s fingers trace out damp patterns along his thighs, easing Charles’ legs around his waist, pressing kisses against his bare stomach.

Charles cries out when Erik pushes into him, easing them both down until he’s on top of Charles, skin burning.

One day, Charles thinks incoherently, there will be a word for this, how they fit together like this, this uncertain grey area that is not quite Erik or Charles but is both of them. They gasp air together before their mouths meet again, slick, all tongues and teeth, gasping and moaning and breathing their names together.

Just this. Being here together. Erik’s hands on his wrists again, keeping him pinned down and held apart. When Erik kisses him again, Charles opens his eyes. Erik’s eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen, scarlet with kisses.

Like this.

Freeze the world, end time now. Let this be forever.

Charles closes his eyes and cries out again, lost in the slow, sweet unknotting of orgasm.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the first time anything like this has happened, Erik is quite sure of that. No one could ever have been so foolish as to think bringing their Submissive in the middle of a warzone would keep them safer.

Charles smiles, “You know, one of the men who put up the flag on Iwo Jima was a Submissive, so someone got there before you there too.”

Erik snorts, and runs his fingers over the Kevlar. Hank's suits are tough and resilient; for all that they look ridiculous. When Erik helps Charles with his, his fingers smooth over the places where metal has been knotted into the fabric on his specifications, he pulls with his hands, with his powers, and drags Charles into his arms.

This is the worst mistake Erik can ever make, he knows this, but he can't order Charles to stay behind because that will be even worse. Because Shaw might guess, or have been told by Angel who didn't know what she was saying, and a thousand miles is nothing to a teleporter. Or maybe it would be the human forces, ready to neutralise this new threat, who'd been told by Moira -just as ignorant as Angel- where they were staying-

Charles kisses him. I'm coming with you.

\- it's the only way to be sure. The only way he can know Charles will be safe, be protected. He has to be there himself.

"I'm insulted." Charles' voice is a little rough, he licks his lips. "You're the one who trained me."

"One week." He can feel Charles' heart beating against the metal of the suit, pulse under the collar. He wishes he could pull Charles inside him, to become just one person, free from the ever-present fear.

"There's a school of philosophy about that." Charles murmurs. "Plato, I think."

Shut up. They can do this. They have to. They'll do this and whatever the outcome they'll survive and be together. Even if they have to run and leave Shaw to his insane plan. One way or another, they'll be back here come evening. Twelve hours, maybe thirteen. Looked at like that, it almost seems possible.

Shhh, another kiss. Raven bangs on the door. "We're meeting Hank at the airbase now, hurry up."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles gently nudges the guards into letting them into the airfield, security is tight with the whole country on edge, and while Moira might have clearance, any they might have was lost when Shaw destroyed the facility.

Erik doesn't seem to want to let Charles go out of arm's reach. A hand tracing his shoulder, cupping his throat, resting on his back. He's so tense his bones hurt. This is madness of the eight of them, three are Submissives.

Charles leans in closer, whatever Erik might think, if they fail they will all die, no matter where they might be. As utterly immoral as dragging them into this might seem, Sean and Hank are risking their live to be sure there is a future; that they will live to meet those they belong to. It's a worthy cause, although he still feels slightly sick. This is Shaw, after all.

Standing under the plane's wing, with Erik so close beside him, Charles can see it through his eyes, every coil of wire and girder, the way the wings tilt so slightly, straining for flight. They're all staring at it, this is the first time Charles has been so close. Finally, Raven breaks the silence, "Where's Hank?"

“I’m here.” Charles stares for a moment before looking away and composing himself. When they’d seen Hank’s destroyed room, Charles had thought the cure had simply not worked. “It didn’t attack the cells, it enhanced them. It didn’t work.”

His first feeling is shock, seeing Hank like this, a furry, heftier version of Raven. Then amazement that Hank had managed to get here without anyone seeing him. Then finally a strange feeling of horror, because if this is what Hank’s cure had done to him, what would it had done to Raven? Glancing at her, Charles can see she’s thinking the same thing, although she hides it well.

“Yes it did Hank.” Is she using her powers to make herself taller? She looks it, touching fingertips to the sides of Hank’s face, she doesn’t look the half-head shorter Charles knows she is. “Don’t you see? This, is who you were meant to be.” She lifts his head, “This is you. No more hiding.”

“Never looked better.” Erik smiles, Hank’s determination to hide has always irritated him. He’ll have to deal with his powers now, and that’s good.

Hank doesn’t think so, spinning around to face Erik and snarling, raising threatening hands that Charles sees, with shock, are now threatening claws. “Don’t mock me.” His teeth are needle-sharp.

He doesn’t know what Erik does, only that he wouldn’t be able to do it. He draws himself up to a height he doesn’t have, and seems to take up more room than anyone could. It seems to be a power all Dominants have, to bend the world around them until they’re the largest ones in the room. Hanks backs down.

“I wasn’t.”

Whatever he’s doing, he stops, and Hanks lets out a breath. Running clawed fingers through hair-turned-fur.

“Even I got to admit you look pretty bad-ass.” Alex puts in. Darwin glances at him, preparing to diffuse the latest mess. “Think I got a new name for you, Beast.”

Hank growls.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sea is a warzone when they get to it, although no shots have been fired yet. Perversely, Erik feels calmer now than he has since the President's announcement last night. Perhaps it's the metal of the ships and the plane, a reassurance that he is far from powerless, and can keep them all safe. That's good, because due to Hank's flying, everyone now knows they're here.

Shaw's submarine is out there, although it's more of a needle in a haystack problem, with all the ships around it, picking out one lump of metal among so many, particularly at this height, is impossible.

"That one." He can just about see the ship, heading towards the embargo line, the American ships' gun barrels swivelling to point it out.

Charles nods, closes his eyes, frowns. Opens them almost at once. "They're all dead. Shaw's been there. He's set the ship for the embargo line." He licks his lips, swallows. Whatever it was, it hadn't been pleasant. A flash of rage that they're having to go through this, risk this, because the people down there, in those ships, are too stupid to know when they're being played for fools.

Erik reaches over and wraps his fingers around Charles'. Deep breaths, calm. Reaching in to find that calm place, liquid joy, cool fire. He can't get a grip on the ship. The plane is moving too fast and he can't keep it in sight. Something catches briefly and he feels metal groan and tear, but by what Moira's saying it wasn't enough. Worse, he's probably tipped Shaw off that they're here.

Charles squeezes his fingers, reassuring, and closes his eyes again. Erik smiles, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. Good. Do it. He snatches hold of the missile the moment it leaves the ship, yanking it away from the closest target - the plane- and down into the rogue ship. The range is still too far for him to be sure it hits, but it's close enough and the whiplash from the explosion rocks the plane, tumbling them over. He hears Raven shriek.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles keeps his eyes closed, breathing deep and level. Where are you? If Shaw has his helmet on, Charles will know where he is, if only by that - hole- the man makes in the fabric of the world.

"Can you find him?" Erik's voice is coming from a long way off.

No, too many minds. Although he could be looking harder; if Shaw isn't wearing the helmet, the Charles could get into his head by mistake. After seeing what the man did to Erik and Frost's minds, he doesn't want to see what he did to his own.

"Damn." Erik swears, Charles opens his eyes, coming back to here and now, Erik's thoughts are racing. This is not a good place. They're out in the open, surrounded by warships. They can't draw this out. "We have to find him now."

Calm, settle, still. Charles tries to slow both their thoughts; he can't afford to burn himself out this fast, and risk what happened at the facility. He tunes out the arguments around him and tries to focus and relax. They have some time, they stopped the ships and Shaw won't try the same trick twice. He can think.

"-Nothing's on radar, and we don't have sonar!"

Charles was wrong, he didn't have time, which means he can’t speak up in time to stop Sean from replaying "Yes, we do."

Charles turns his head as much as he can in these seats."Are you-"

Sean nods, so pale his freckles stand out like red ink. "Yeah." He starts climbing out of his chair.

"I'm going with you." Darwin is unstrapping himself from his seat as well.

Charles hesitates, "Are you sure?" He repeats, glances at Alex, who glares.

Darwin nods, "I can get back quick enough." he puts a hand on Charles' shoulder, a moment of stopbeingprotectiveit'sweird. Charles nods.

Sean gives him a slightly shaky smile as they stumble over to the open hatch.

"Thanks."

"It's that or your Dom'll come over and murder the lot of us." Darwin offers, "And we don't want that." He looks back once more at Alex, who's looking slightly pale. He nods, and gives a small smile.

"I'll be right back."

"Sure you will."

"Ready?" Charles rests a hand on Sean's shoulder. He's said all he can, taught them all he can. Oh please let this work. There have already been too many casualties.

Sean jumps, Darwin diving in after him. Sean- Banshee the boy's thoughts echo in his mind. I'm Banshee, and I'm not a boy - soars off the water, and his mind roars with delight. Darwin's own joy is not far behind, as his hands extend and web and beat the air, holding him up. A Greek chorus of delight in Charles' head.

"Hey, batman!" Sean shouts as he swoops back up and plunges underwater. Darwin grins and flies lower, not going underwater, just hovering above it, wingtips barely brushing the waves.

I really hope none of the men on the ship have binoculars. Erik comes to stand beside Charles, looking slightly sick.

I thought I was supposed to be the overprotective one? Charles tries to tease. It doesn't work. Erik's face is stone.

They are our people. To protect at all costs. Charles puts a hand on Erik's shoulder.

Here! Sean's voice all but grins at him. Got it.

Erik nods, he's got it too. Are you ready for this? My trophy wall feels empty.

This attempt at levity works, and Erik smiles. "Let's find out."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere in the periphery Erik can see bat-winged Darwin join Sean underwater, the two of them swimming off to a safe distance. Erik digs his fingers into the plane's landing gear, grounding himself in the plane's solid metal presence. Then he reaches his other hand out, flat against the horizon. Where are you?

It's easier than he hoped; now he knows where to look. The submarine's shell recognises him, the metal pulling to his touch against the grooves he'd dug into it on their last meeting.

Charles might have meant it as a joke, but it's a lot easier to think of this as some great Arthurian task meant to show love and devotion than what it actually is; an attempt to get rid of a horrific threat before Shaw finally finishes what he started and kills them both.

Rage comes up first, old and worn and yes, he should have seen it long ago, useless, ragged like lace to exhaustion. It's instinct, and he pushes past it, to the warm place where Charles nests in his mind, where everything is safe and here and so very good.

I'm here. Charles whispers. I'll always be here. I love you. Nothing anyone can do will ever change that.

Erik's breath catches in his chest. Breathe. The power like a storm, he holds on to the plane and lets it pour out of his outstretched hand, feels it catch and pull and - and -

It's a dark shadow at first, getting lighter as the sun reaches it. Dragged out tail first like some unimaginable sea creature, a fish story no one will ever believe. This time laughter snatches at his throat, hot and vital and brilliant. And this- he is doing this- it's actually working-

The propeller rises out, still spinning and flaying water everywhere, more streaming off the smooth sides as the rest of the submarine follows it. It's heavy; the weight drags on Erik's shoulder blades, caught between it and the plane.

The men on the boats must be seeing this and let them see. Erik shudders a breathless laugh. Let them see what they can do. This- who could do this? Nothing like this has been seen since time biblical. Let them see, and be in awe, and fear. Let them go home and tell all they see of these strange new creatures who can raise submarines with their bare hands.

They're almost at the beach now, and it's the work of a thought to raise it that little bit higher, level with the plane, a trophy.

I'll need a very large wall. Charles is laughing in his mind, everything bright and dazzling and-

-and there's someone on the ship. The Nameless man Charles supplies, mind suddenly cold with fear. The tornado maker. There's something more, something Charles got from Frost's mind but there's no time as the man tears a whirlwind from the calm skies.

Erik freezes, torn between the metal of the plane and the metal of the submarine, certain that if he lets go of either he'll be thrown into the sea-

"Erik!"

The whirlwind hits, like- like- Erik doesn't know, like being hit by a truck from all sides. He drops the submarine and grabs hold of Charles' arm, the power flying like a current up his arm and locking him to the ground, holding them both as the wind pulls at them, trying to drag them out of the plane.

The submarine hits the shore like a beached fish, shattering to pieces on impact. Erik hangs on; he can feel his fingers slowly digging through the metal of the landing gear like knives in butter, Charles’ wrist strong and solid in contrast. He fights the urge to close his eyes are the plane goes into a tailspin.

Charles is screaming something, a wild echo in his mind he doesn’t hear, his fingers are slowly going through the cables, and something pops close to his head, the wheel shudders, suddenly swinging loose. They’re losing height, rolling towards the shore, sea turning to breakers turning to sand. Stop, he tries to scream to the cables, stop, please. He can’t get a grip on them, everything’s too fast and they’re fraying, cut through by his fingers and dragged on by the whirlwind.

Take my hand! The words imprint on his mind miles high. Charles is reaching out with his free hand, eyes desperate. Please!

Too late, they’re too close to the ground, and the plane is about the crash. He lets go of the landing gear the same moment it finally snaps, and grabs Charles’ arm.

Please, we can’t leave them-

Erik reaches for the metal in Charles’ suit, in his, find, register and lock. He can do this. We save ourselves-

Please! Charles’ teeth are bared, a torrent of images –RavenMoiraAlex-

Erik wants to scream. For once do as I say! He closes his eyes and releases Charles’ suit from the plane.

 

Charles feels Raven’s scream as they drop from the plane. A moment’s suspension, he’s not even sure he’s falling, lost somewhere in mid-air, as the plane roars overhead and the wind screams and everything is a blue of sand and sky and sea and wreckage.

Then he lands against Erik, one solid point in sky. They’re falling, he can feel Erik running his focus over them both and pulling-

-it’s a full body jerk that almost tears him out of Erik’s iron-hard grip. They stop suddenly in mid air, three feet above the beach. Then a buffet from the dying tornado hits them and Erik’s focus fails, and they drop.

The fall is still hard enough to wind, Charles lands on top of Erik then falls back, and his focus is suddenly overwhelmed by the minutiae of sand in front of his face. His breath blows up clouds of grains and his mouth is already gritty.

He spits, “Erik!” The plane is falling towards the treeline.

It’s unnecessary, Erik’s already up and moving, one hand on his ribs. His eyes are blazing and it’s like in Russia, that same wild exhilarated focus, thunder in his ears, lightning striking ground. His hands reach out for the plane, wind through something invisible in midair, feet set against the ground and shoulders hunched, as though in a tug-of-war.

Erik jerks forwards and Charles can feel it in his mind, the heavy wrench of the plane’s remains, he ignores the body proper and the engines, only focusing on the metal tube of the neck and cockpit. Erik bares his teeth and pulls back. The plane disintegrates in midair, the barrels of the engines ripping off and crashing into the trees, bursting in flames, the wings cutting the burning palms down in the next moment, the body crushing everything left flat.

Erik drops to his knees, gasping, one hand going to his ribs where pain is only just making itself known, one hand still raised to keep up the head of the plane.

Charles reaches out to Raven and Moira and Alex ¬It’s okay, Erik’s got you.

He gets something from Alex to the extent that this isn’t very reassuring thanks, and a quick are you alright from Raven. They’re fine. Shaken, and more than a little apprehensive as Erik lowers them until they’re on the ground.

Charles gets up slowly, his legs are still uncertain and he’s rather reluctant to leave the reassuring solidity of the ground. Erik is still kneeling in the sand, breathing hard. When Charles comes close his hand snaps out and grabs his wrist, fingers like a steel trap. “Never do that again.” His eyes are blazing, and every part of that fierce focus is now turned on Charles. “Never question me like that again. I have to know you’ll obey me.” Now more than ever. There’s still Shaw. Erik’s mind is starting to shake around the edges, aware how close they came to disaster. “Swear it!”

Charles breath comes heavily, “Yes, I will.” I’m sorry. Now more than ever they have to work together, Charles closes his eyes, feeling Erik’s despair that they ever will. Twenty years might just be too much. Ironic that Shaw might as well have engineered that as well.

There’s noise coming from the downed plane, so close to the remains of the submarine. Shaw’s men. Angel. Charles closes his eyes and can see them, Moira shooting from behind a fragment of wing-tip, Raven leaping out at the teleporter and smashing him with fists suddenly the size of sledgehammers, Hank a heartbeat behind her, Alex blasting the Nameless man so hard he flies into the side of the submarine and doesn’t get up again.

The teleporter disappears with Raven, Charles’ eyes open in horror, staring up at a distant speck in the sky. No.

“Charles!” Erik grabs him. “Focus!”

“He’s got Raven!” His mind lashes out, and he feels the teleporter suddenly slump limp, knocked out by the blow. Both of them falling now, far down towards the blue sea and the ship as small as toys.

“She can look after herself!” Erik shakes him. I need you.

And Raven must have seen Darwin, because her hands are sprouting wings as well, bones hollowing, body shrinking, she can’t become a bird, but she’s the next best thing-

Do as he says Charles. And even from so far away, he knows she’s smiling, We’ll take care of you.

Charles closes his eyes, deep breath, and opens them. He nods at Erik. Tell me what to do.

 

“Find Shaw. End him and we end this.” If Charles is right, fear is the only thing keeping Shaw’s men fighting. Angel might be a danger, but she’s just one person.

Charles closes his eyes for a third time, fingers going to his head. “I can’t feel him. He has to be in the submarine. There’s a-“ an image of a great expanse of emptiness, like part of the world has been blacked out- “in the submarine. He’s got to be there. I read the teleporter’s mind. Shaw’s drawing all the power out of the ship, turning himself into some kind of nuclear bomb.”

There’s a- it’s hard to be sure, a vibration through both their minds. Charles jerks to look back at the ship. “It’s Moira.” He gives a shaky smile. “She’s thinking very loudly to get through. She’s saying the giger reading’s off the scale.”

“Then we go now.” There are no words to describe how much Erik does not want to be doing this. A month ago this was the goal of his life, no he wants nothing more than to take them all and run.

They do run, but in the wrong direction. Somewhere beyond the submarine Erik can see flashes from Alex’s powers, proof that they’re still fighting. Charles still has his hand to his head, keeping touch with everyone.

Raven’s fine, Angel’s giving her trouble, but she’s got Sean and Darwin with her. They’re- fragmented – oh damn-

“Focus!” Erik gasps, his hand going to his side, it still hurts to breath, he landed badly. The flank of the submarine is rearing up in front of them, huge and grey and still gouged here and there, it hums welcome to Erik like an old friend.

This time his fingers tear straight through the iron skin, grabbing Charles and pulling them both up and into the submarine. The middle of the vessel, that’s where the dead zone is.

Fear inside him so intense it’s as though someone knotted his insides. Erik reaches of Charles, and he’s just as terrified. Rage at least did something for that, Erik thinks.

“Here!” Charles jumps over to a sparking, half-wrecked machine, and pulls a lever down. “The nuclear reactor. He won’t get any more for now.”

They’re going up against a nuclear bomb. Shaw as a nuclear bomb. Erik breaths deeply, and touches the side of Charles’ face. Charles smiles. We’ve got this far and we’re still alive.

If it was just this we would be fine. Erik looks behind them. There’s no sign of Shaw. Charles reaches up and pulls his head back around, kissing him so hard there isn’t any space in his head for anything else. “Now. Ready?”

For anything. For you, anything. Erik nods.

 

It’s here, the empty place. Or close enough. It has to be. There’s nowhere else, no other door. And it really is empty and Shaw’s not there.

Charles stares, “He has to be here!”

Erik exhales, relaxing from his fighting stance no one there. Maybe I was right, a wry smile, maybe he did go to Westchester after all.

“No, he’s here.” Charles turns, one wall after another, reaching with him mind but there’s nothing, nothing but walls and ceiling and furniture that wouldn’t be out of place in the White House. “He’s not going to leave Cuba without his war, not even to-“ He breaks off, shakes his head. Not now. They’re frightened enough already. There’s something off about this, something Charles can’t quite place-

-Then it hits him. They’re in here, but Charles can still feel the others outside. He can still feel Moira scrambling from more ammo as Hank tries to fight off the now-awake teleporter, defending- god, Alex is down- In the distance he can feel Raven, Darwin and Sean dogfighting against Angel. He can still feel them.

“This isn’t the right room.”

He feels it before he sees it, just behind him. Erik’s face suddenly a blank mask of barely hidden furyragefearhorror. God, how often did he have this nightmare? Being in a room, unable to move as the monster comes up behind him. The only difference is he can move, and spins around.

Shaw is standing there.

Something in Charles’ throat freezes, his backbone becomes so stiff if feels brittle. He lashes out instinctively keep away, and his mind is sucked into the blank empty nothing of the room Shaw’s in. He pulls away, one step back, feeling suddenly small and naked and very, very scared.

The room is lined with mirrors, and Charles can’t get anything from it. The reflections throw cold blue light on Shaw, on Erik’s face. Shaw’s dressed in such clothes- god, this was deliberate- add insignia and you have an SS uniform.

“Erik. What a pleasant surprise.”

 

Shaw’s eyes are as blue as Charles’ in the icy light. He’s smiling, that same, slow, lazy smile he wore on their last encounter. Utterly confident.

He can blast up the pieces with a thought, the only part of Erik’s mind that isn’t frozen screams at him – or maybe it’s Charles – of course he’s confident.

“How good to see you.”

Erik had thought things would be easier now, when he was standing in front of Shaw. It isn’t. If anything, the fear is louder than ever. For all his fears, too much of the last twenty years’ damage has been undone and the rage is a groping, fleeting thing.

It’s an enormous effort to move, one step in front of Charles. Do something. He isn’t sure who’s thought that was either.

Shaw eyes trace from him to Charles, and he sneers. “And disappointing.”

And maybe that’s enough, because suddenly the world flows back, focus down to the last molecule, each breath tastes of electricity. Erik stretches out a hand and reaches for the shell of the submarine around them. Shaw’s expression doesn’t change. He shakes his head.

“Erik, Erik, Erik.” He takes a step forward, through the door; the heat radiating from the room is incredible.

Radioactive, Charles’ thought are short and stilted, his mind is scrabbling against Shaw’s helmet, trying to find purchase and failing. If we don’t get out-

Erik tunes him out. Shaw is still talking.

“After all we did together. All our work.” Shaw shakes his head, like a father disappointed with a son, a teacher with a pet pupil. “And I hear from Angel you threw all that away and went back to the same, weak ways.” He looks back at Charles again. “I should have known. Such a powerful mutant couldn’t have been collared by a human. Erik. I really thought I had taught you better.”

Erik- Charles whispers.

Not yet. Erik spreads his focus to the pipes and beams above them, a spider’s web, only a few steps and he can draw them down to trap Shaw.

It won’t- he’ll just-

“And this. Why are you on their side? Why fight for a doomed race who’ll hunt us down the moment they realise their reign is coming to an end?” Shaw is only a pace away, Erik could strike and get at least most of the net in, but he doesn’t move. Of all the things Shaw could have said, this is the last thing Erik was expecting. Words that he might have said himself.

But then what did he expect? Charles was right, he had been refusing to see Shaw for what he was, another mutant. And Shaw knew as well as he did what humans were.

And what mutants can become! Charles thoughts are knives. Stop him!

He lifts his hand, and the sky falls in. Pieces of decorative plaster and plastic rain on them, the metal comes down in coils, snaring Shaw head to foot like a thousand snakes. Erik lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Shaw looks down at himself, then back up at Erik, pitying. “Oh Erik.”

Get his helmet off! Charles shouts, I can stop him then.

“I’m sorry for what happened in the camps.” Shaw lifts his arms and the metal starts to bend upwards, “I truly am.” Erik forces them back down and for a moment everything is still, absolute tension. “But everything I did, I did for you. To unlock your power.” The metal starts to glow, held between two such unrelenting forces. Here and there it drips onto Shaw’s sleeve, white-hot and molten, only to fade to grey and click to the earth, cold and drained. “To make you embrace it.” Shaw raises his arms again, the metal falls from him, hot and cold, cold and dripping.

Erik takes a step back and Charles moves to the side, flanking Shaw. He’s lying. His mind is warm, sweet, water after a drought, sun after darkness. He did nothing. If anything, he weakened you. Without him, you would have found true focus by yourself. He made you weak, Erik. He tried to destroy both of us.

“You came such a long way from bending gates. I was so proud of you.” The wires answer Erik’s call, they coil down behind Shaw. Shaw doesn’t notice. Charles manages a weak smile; You’re brilliant, coming up behind Shaw. “And that was just scratching the surface. Think how much further we could go. No more weakness, no more weaklings dragging you down. You and I, equals.”

Erik’s focus trembles, suddenly revolted to his core. Ignore him. Charles’ thought a bright beacon. He’s lying, he’d say anything to get you to stop.

“Together.”

The tension is so unbearable there’s nothing to do but break it. Erik brings his hand around and the wires snap in and snatch the helmet from Shaw’s head. Shaw spins around, face fracturing from a pleasant smile to a roaring twisted mess. Charles’ hand is at his temple in a moment, just a moment.

One moment.

And in that moment Shaw covers the short step between them and presses his fingers to Charles’ chest, everything goes white hot and heat so intense Erik throws up his hands to shield his eyes, grabbing at Charles with his powers to pull him away-

Charles is thrown into the mirror room, strikes the pedestal.

The bond goes dead.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you Erik, I never did.”

Erik’s kneeling on the floor, an infinite moment now. No. No. Please. No. He drags in a breath that tastes of the tears running down his face. Please. Charles. Charles. Please. There’s nothing. Just blank dead where the bond used to be. It’s still there, but there’s nothing at the other end.

Shaw sits down in front of him. He’s still smiling. “It hurt me so much to do that to you. But I had to. Your potential Erik. So much potential. Everything you could do, I could see it all, even then. But that link.” He taps the side of Erik head, a dull pressure more heard than felt. “Such a weakness. A foolish, human weakness. We are their successors, we should not be held back by their failings.”

Erik’s hands shake. The submarine groans, but the focus is gone, his mind slips over hatred, rage, love, joy, triumph- it’s all the same. All swallowed up by the huge gaping emptiness which has opened inside him. No. Screaming denial into eternal night. No.

“This is our time. Our age.” He should be doing something. Shaw is right there, just in front of him. Inches away. Smiling. His helmet is on the floor three feet away and it’s that if nothing else that makes it real. Shaw isn’t even afraid.

Erik digs his nails into his skull, he wants to tear it apart, he wants Charles back. He wants- his breath comes in a gasp that’s more of a sob. He’s failed. He’s failed utterly. He should- he should have never come. He should have known. Death follows in his footsteps. He should have left. Even left without Charles and gone far, far away. Somewhere he couldn’t hurt anyone. Charles. Charles who he was to protect. It was one thing, the one thing, and he couldn’t do it.

“You and me, son. This world could be ours.”

And something, somewhere, snaps. Erik screams, something that isn’t even remotely human or mutant but purely animal. He lunges at Shaw and it’s a mark of his rage and Shaw’s surprise that he manages to knock him over. Shaw laughs. He’s laughing. He’s laughing and Charles is lying dead only a few feet away. Erik throws back his head and no one could even describe the sound that comes from his throat. His hands beating down on Shaw’s face, knotted against his neck. Die! For once do something right and die! Can’t you even do that-

Shaw’s still laughing. He pushes Erik off as though Erik was back to being twelve and thirty kilos. His hand catches Erik’s arm and squeezes until the bones snap. The other catches him around the throat and hauls him up until they’re both face to face. The hand tightens lazily until Erik is gasping for every breath, tears still running hot and desperate and useless down his face.

“Erik.” He can feel Shaw’s breath. “Always the same. So predictable.” Shaw shakes his head. “Everything I’ve offered you, and you just throw it away. Everything I’ve done for you! And for what? A stupid, broken, weak-willed toy who’s dead anyway. What a waste. What a waste.” He shakes his head again.

This is it then. Erik’s lips twists into something like a smile. Shaw has nothing left to threaten him with now, and his only regret will be that he couldn’t take him down with him. Erik bares his teeth and spits in Shaw’s face.

And it’s after this, after everything Erik’s done, after months of fighting and years of hunting and everything Erik’s done, that Shaw snaps. His eyes flare, his grip tightens until Erik can’t breathe at all, and his face twists into something more animal that anything else. The next step in evolution. Erik’s mind mocks, and it’s a shame Shaw isn’t a telepath and Erik hasn’t the breath to tell him this out loud.

“You ungrateful little shit.” For as long as Erik’s known Shaw, he’s never heard him swear. “You just don’t care, do you? You’d lie down and spread your legs for those human bastards. You’d let them rule, show your belly and let them ruin you. Everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve made you; and you’d thrown that away for a pretty face and some senseless jabber in your head.”

Erik bares his teeth again. Go on you bastard. Do it. You can’t hurt me any more. End it.

Shaw takes a deep breath, composing himself. His fingers change grip, pressing against Erik’s spine. “I suppose there’s some poetry to it. I made you; it would be up to me to destroy you. I am your creator.” His thumb presses against the underside of Erik’s jaw, ready to snap his neck.

“No.” It’s very simply spoken. A statement of fact. As though the speaker were simply answering a question during a lecture “No you are not.”

Charles is sitting propped up against the doorframe, breathing hard, blood running down the side of his face.

 

Shaw’s mind is nothing like he imagined it. He’d tried rather hard not to, but if asked Charles would probably have compared it to the last few minutes of dragging his useless legs over the broken floor, watching Shaw slowly strangle Erik and being unable to reach through the walls and stop it. Slow, detailed, delicate torture.

It’s nothing like that.

Charles has seen minds like this in the truck driver stops he and Erik ended up at when they were searching for mutants. Dominants who beat their Subs bloody and told themselves it was for their own good. He’d seen them in the mind of his stepfather, who’d brutally abused his own son and would have turned his attention to Charles and Raven if they hadn’t stopped him. He’d read about these men, in the books and reports on the Eichmann trial.

The Banality of Evil.

Charles laughs, laughs and laughs and laughs until his broken legs scream with pain and tears come. This is what they were scared of? This stupid, sad, pathetic excuse of a man who was so desperate to prove he was nothing like his scraping, servile Submissive of a father that he did this. All of this. This is the man who ruined their lives, who killed Erik’s mother, who so nearly killed them both. Who destroyed Emma Frost and broken the Nameless man and nearly caused World War Three.

No wonder the Nazis were so eager to have you. He snarls at Shaw. You’re just like them. Pathetic. Small and weak. It’s the work of a moment to pull out all the carefully hidden fears and doubts. All tucked away behind the great and terrible mantle of Sebastian Shaw.

Shaw falls to his knees, screaming. Erik collapses to the floor behind him, one hand to his neck where he will definitely have bruises.

This is what you are. He tells him. This. Nothing more.

He shreds Shaw’s dreams, the megalomaniac delusions of such a small man. You would have been worshipped by nothing but bones.

The delusions of strength. This is not strength. This is the stripping away of strength until there’s nothing but a brittle shell. One tap and it shatters.

The delusions of unity. You rule through fear and madness, none would ever follow you.  
The delusions of superiority. You are proof contrary. You have tarred the name of our species before it even started. You are a torturer and a murdered equal to the foulest members of the human race. But do not worry. We will make sure you are forgotten. We will show humanity the true glory of our people.

Then, please, please kill me. Shaw is clawing at his face; blood is streaming over the expensive carpets. His eyes are already gone. Make it stop. A sob in the mind, tears from eyes no longer able to make them. I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t. You deserve this and far far worse. I could trap you in a repeating nightmare from which you’d never wake up. It’s little enough compared to what you did to us both. You would feel this, only this, never getting used to it, always as raw, for the rest of your life.

Please- pleasepleaseplease-

But you are fortunate. Because despite everything you’ve done, I’m not you. And neither is Erik. We are the better men.

And in that last moment, before Charles turns all the light off and brings this endless horror, this cavalcade of nightmares, to an end, Shaw is weeping for joy, face turned to the ceiling as if blessed by god.


End file.
